Planet of the Texturians : A Giant’s Bones, Slow Carved Tears

Sins are stopping by,

the scales assume full-soul-song;

Tone’s justice is so.

 

Found in the ruins –

a giant’s bones, slow carved tears,

cloud -singers’ voices.

 

Expedition Transmission  # 1

Since arriving on the Planet of Texturians, there are few things stopping researchers from exploring the Lines & Words  that cover the great cliffs of memory. It is estimated by our chronologists that the scales of time are moving to the melodies heard in the cavernous halls of learning.  We must assume full-soul-song retrieval will require quatrain gene sequencing.

 

 

These Visitors  live in slow-time.  They flitter about like jewel-moths, blind to our  efforts at communication.  So excited by our minor arts – so deaf to tachyon cadence.  They will eventually recognize us only as ghosts . In the mean-song we record their soul-light into our archive-stanzas. It will add new inflections and metaphor accents for  future sonata-landscape chorus narratives & the staging of further docu-dreams.

 

 

Expedition Transmission # 5

Lost a second Team member – like the first one, they became erratic in behaviour, convinced that there are sentient inhabitants observing us.  Also claimed that the ghost of the first missing member could be seen/heard in the textual remains that we located on levels eight & nine.  There are definitely unusual vibrational levels when psychological similes readings are applied  to calligraphy scans. Temporal distortions may account for the variations without attributing any hyper-dimensional life-form activity.

 

 

The synthesis and lighting time – Home and roaming.

 

Deep angles cut air –

walking backwards, memory,

playful laughter runs.

 

This  fragile form swims –

currents twist in vague tear-tides,

so like a child’s laugh.

 

 

The last of these travellers from across the star-streams have finally arrived at some level of understanding.  No longer unaware of our reality level. Their joy-fear is very intense – will enter the weave-cycle in an effective resolution. Glorious glyph tragicomedies  are now being composed . Tomorrow we will present this in the melodrama-masque lens projection. Extempore fields will reach the outer orbits  of the star cluster.

 

 

Consider the View

 

Blue skies

Smiling at me,

Nothing but blue skies

Do I see.


Bluebirds

Singing a song.

Nothing but bluebirds

All day long.

Never saw the sun shining so bright.

Never saw things going so right.

Noticing the days hurrying by,

When you’re in love, my how they fly……

“Blue Skies” composed by Irving Berlin in 1926.

 

Blue Days,

All of them gone,

Nothing but Blue Skies from now on.

 

June is a tricky month of memories for me. Father’s Day, my father’s birthday, and my parent’s wedding anniversary( June 21)  all clustered together.  My father, Paul Kanski, passed away in 1992, at the age of 76.  He and mom loved to dance – they grew up in the age of the great dance bands, when jitterbug was king & foxtrot ruled the floorboards of the dance halls. Blue Skies was one of his favourite tunes. Sometimes, late at night I could hear mom singing it to him in their bedroom.   Even now in my 60s I miss them – Time is a con artist, handing you gifts with one hand, while picking your pocket with the other. 

over me, music –

blue skies above carry clouds

dancing – silent steps.

 

 

 

 

Losing Control of the Narrative

 

 

 

Newspaper Exclusive – Constructing Reality.

News Update – Redefining Facts……..

Press Briefing – Redirecting the Smoke.

Losing Control of the Narrative –

Black Swan Press Release.

 

 

A pair of Black Swans –

contradictions arising

over deep waters.

Asemic Cinema: Run-A-Way Bus

Welcome to the Asemic Cinema, where opening  shots& titles tell a different story from the one passing before your eyes. This week’s classic comes from a time & place that once was/will be.  It is a re-write of  The Runaway Bus (1954), a British Mystery-Comedy – please note that the sub-titles have been deconstructed to find alternative meaning.

 

Conversation finds

travellers seeking motion

commotion in lines.